Second best
by iNsAnlTY
Summary: Just a rant of Romano's personal feelings. Basically memories of the past haunt him during a world conference and he has somewhat of a mental breakdown in front of all the other nations. He just wanted to be recongnized as a nation too, is that too much to ask for?


"_You are the most ungrateful brat I've ever met!"_

"_Why can't you ever do anything right you stupid child!"_

"_Try to be like your little brother for once! You might actually learn something!"_

_**Shut up…**_

"_For the love of God, Romano! I asked you to do one simple task and you can't even do that!"_

_**Shut up…**_

"_Try being like Italy for once, Romano. Stop being such a nuisance."_

_**Be like Italy? You mean Veneziano… right?**_

"_No wonder Austria got rid of him, the kid can't do anything worth shit. Might as well dump him on the side of the street."_

_**I'm trying! So shut up and leave me alone!**_

"_I heard Spain tried to trade him for Italy when he went back to Austria's. Poor guy got the bad end of the bargain with that one."_

_**Spain… wanted to trade me for Veneziano… He… he wanted to get rid of me…?**_

"_Can you blame him, anyone stuck with __**that**__ has to be pretty unlucky."_

"Romano?"

_**Shut up…**_

"Hey Romano, you ok?"

_**Shut up…**_

"Hey, mi amigo-"

"Just shut the fuck up you bastards!"

The sound of fists slamming down on the table and the sudden pain shooting through his hands shocked Romano into blinking awake. Breathing heavily, he looked around, taking notice of the fact that they were in the middle of a conference. All the other nation's eyes were locked on him, even Britain and France had stopped their quarreling long enough to look at him in surprise. Italy and Spain were standing on either side of him, both watching him in concern.

_**What the fuck was that?**_

"F- Fratello?" Italy's timid voice asked.

Romano turned on him in an instant, glaring at him. "What the fuck do you want?" he hissed venomously.

He watched as his little brother faltered, suddenly looking away with a pained expression etched onto his face.

"Roma, are you alright mi amigo?" came the Spaniard's worried voice. "You looked like you were having a nightmare for a while. We tried waking you up but…"

_**A nightmare? More like Hell in the shape of a fucking cruel reality!**_

He ground his teeth together in frustration. "Why the fuck do you care you tomato loving bastard?"

"Romano you're by best friend, why wouldn't I care?" was the Spaniard's reply. The words seemed so honest, so truthful.

It was a painful stab in the elder Italian's heart.

"I'm not sure, bastard. For all I know you're just acting so you can conquer our lands one day when we aren't expecting it."

"Romano!" Italy's alarmed voice said suddenly.

He ignored it, glaring daggers at the Spaniard beside him. He watched as his face stiffened, and tears started forming at the corners of his eyes. Part of him felt the sudden urge to go hug the man and apologize; it was a low blow, after all.

"_Spain tried to trade him for Italy when he went back to Austria's"_

_**That was a low blow too… Wasn't it, Spain?**_

"… Why would you even think that Romano…" Spain choked out, still recovering from the hurtful accusation. "We've… we've been best friend's for so long now. I would never do that to you or Italy."

_**Italy… That's what everyone refers to him as… I'm the only one that ever calls him Veneziano. Everyone else calls him Italy.**_

"Veneziano."

Spain blinked. "What did you say, mi amigo?"

"His name… His name is Veneziano."

From across the room, the sound of America's loud laughter could be heard. "Dude, that's hilarious! His name is Italy! Don't you know your own brother's name?"

His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms. "I know my idiot brother better than any of you bastards." He hissed at America. "His name isn't Italy, it's Veneziano."

"I'm telling you dude! His name is Italy!"

_**I'll never be called that… I'm just plain old Romano to them.**_

He looked up at America, narrowing his eyes. "Well then, what's my name you bastard?"

"Romano of course! Dude don't tell me you're forgetting your own name!" the American laughed happily, oblivious to the tone at which the Italian had used.

"… _Just _Romano?"

"Oh fratello," the soft voice of Italy said beside him. He turned that deadly gaze on his little brother once more.

"Don't give me that pitying shit, you're the last person I want that from!"

_**Not once… Not once in my whole life…**_

Italy went silent, sitting down in his seat and staring at his lap. It was only a moment- the first moment in a long, long time- and the soft sobs of the small nation reached Romano's ears. But of course, he was far too agitated to do anything about it.

Not that he would anyway, comforting people wasn't something he was all that good at.

His fists slammed down on the table again, "Dammit!" he growled, raising them again and repeating the action. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" His voice escalated with each round of hits.

Pity the table that didn't deserve this kind of abuse.

"Romano calm down!" Spain said frantically, reaching out a hand to calm him down.

The Italian turned on him in an instant. "_Don't touch me you bastard! Why don't you just leave me alone!_?"

There was a strangled tone in which Romano used to scream that at the Spaniard, and judging from his expression, Spain had heard it himself. Heard that sudden crack of his voice, the sound of someone who was on the verge of breaking down at any given moment. The pain of that voice.

_**It's not like any of them really care. Those bastards only give a shit about Veneziano.**_

Spain looked terrified, "Romano, what's wrong?"

_**Like you care…**_

"I'm fine dammit, go bother someone else, you tomato bastard."

Spain huffed. "Romano I have been living with you most of your life! I think I'd know when something was wrong with my little bambino. Now tell Boss what's wrong."

_**You should know already, you bastard…**_

"I said I'm fine-"

"Stop lying Romano!"

_**You tell me to stop lying… The only friend I thought I had, only to learn you wanted to trade me for my little brother…**_

"Romano."

"… I'm always second…"

Spain went silent at that, and he could feel the now curious gazes of everyone in the room. Romano felt like a specimen on display at some museum, like he was an object, not an actual person.

Or in this case: a nation.

_**Always second… Always lower classed and disregarded as nothing more than someone wasting space…**_

"Come again?" Spain's now confused voice reached his ears. He snapped.

"I'm _always _fucking second!" he screamed, his fists once again connecting with the table. His nails had dug deep into his palm and blood began to seep from the soft flesh.

"Roma-"

"No!" he glared at Spain, "It's my turn to say something dammit! I'm so fucking sick of always hearing Italy this, Italy that! Veneziano is only the _Northern half_ of our nation. It takes the two of us to make the nation! We're _both Italy!"_

_**No one notices. **_

"We have the same name for fuck's sake! There's a reason why I call him Veneziano! We're both named Italy!"

_**It's like I'm not even considered a nation.**_

"It doesn't help, always hearing everyone refer to me as Romano! My name is Italy Romano dammit! And his," he points angrily at Italy, "Is Italy Veneziano! So why the fuck does every god damned bastard only call him Italy!? Why have I been the one that's been down casted by his last name!? Why is the only thing I ever get to hear anyone call me is fucking _Romano!_"

_**I'm tired of it…**_

Tears were trailing down his cheeks, his teeth grinding together in his frustration. A guilty silence had passed over the room, and the other nations were now looking anywhere else but directly at him. It felt like someone had taken a knife and stabbed him. Oh, how it hurt much worse than he'd actually anticipated.

_**I'm Italy too…**_

The silence was unbearable. Shoving his seat back, he turned and walked briskly to the door.

"Fratello?" came the quiet reply. "Where are you going?"

_**Don't pretend that you care…**_

He growled. "None of your god damned business, idiota. So just shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you right now either."

Romano had already passed about several nations, none of which would meet his eyes. Had they tried, they would have seen the anguish, the devastation that swam in those hazel irises. The pain that he'd been carrying in his heart since he had first come into the world as a new nation: small, and unable to properly defend himself in any kind of way.

He passed three more chairs, receiving the same hospitality of being shied away from, until he felt two small arms wrap around his waist tightly. Romano's initial reaction was to shriek and punch whoever had been hugging him, as he did so many times whenever Spain hugged him.

Which he sort of did, just without the punching.

The Italian ripped the arms from around him, spinning around with a raised fist to hit whoever it was who'd had the _audacity_ to hug him in this current state. That fist froze when he found his little brother standing there, gazing up at him with tears streaming down his face.

Romano's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Didn't I tell you I didn't want to talk to-"

"Does fratello want to be called Italy?"

… _**What…?**_

He blinked, eyeing his brother, "What the crapola do you mean by that?"

Italy's hand reached up and clutched the hem of Romano's sleeve. "F- fratello isn't just Romano." He stuttered, not looking away from the elder Italian's face. "R- Romano is Italy too… So if you want me to call you Italy, I'll call you Italy."

… _**Why would you…**_

The younger Italian laughed a bit, wiping tears off his face. "Even if fratello hates me, I'll still call him Italy, if that's what he wants. We are two halves of one whole nation, so of course you're Italy too."

_**Why…**_

"Does that make you happy?"

_**You should act like everyone else towards me…**_

Romano said nothing, staring at his little brother in awe. He'd never actually been nice to him, never actually talked to him for much longer than needed. His history of being a terrible brother was infamous. But here Veneziano was, smiling up at him with that unbelievably warm kindness that only he could have, despite the current situation.

_**The only one who ever cared…**_

Italy's smile only spoke of a warmth Romano had felt would never be a part of his life. Sure, Spain had taken him in and been like a father to him, but…

_**He was ready to throw me to the curb in a heartbeat…**_

"I know what Spain said hurt you a lot…"

Romano's eyes widened as he was snapped out of his thoughts. He stared down at his brother in complete shock. "Ch-che? How did you…?"

_**He knew…?**_

"I was cleaning when I heard him and Mr. Austria talking about it. It made me sad to think he would even want to do that. But I wasn't sure how you felt about it, so I just pretended I didn't hear anything so I wouldn't make you upset."

_**All this time… He knew what Spain had done…**_

The elder Italian could only stare at him in stunned silence. He couldn't even reply when he felt Italy move closer and give him a hug, where under normal circumstances, he would have shoved him away and yelled at him angrily.

"Mi dispiace, fratello. You didn't do anything to deserve any of this. You should be happy and smiling and eating tomatoes like you normally do!" the smaller Italian said happily, beaming up at his brother, tear stains still covering his face.

_**After everything I've done…**_

Romano still stood there in silence, staring down at Italy. He felt his little brother's hand wipe the tears that were falling down his face, but more and more seemed to fall in their place. It took him a spit second to realize he himself had been crying.

And that was all it took for Romano to break down.

_**I'm the worst…**_

"_You are the most ungrateful brat I've ever met!"_

_**Even after everything I've put him through; he's still been supporting me this whole time…**_

"_Why can't you ever do anything right you stupid child!"_

… _**Why did I have to exist…?**_

"_Might as well dump him on the side of the street."_

_**Stop saying that…**_

"_Poor guy got the bad end of the bargain with that one."_

_**Stop it…**_

"_Can you blame him, anyone stuck with __**that **__has to be pretty unlucky."_

_**STOP…**_

He cracked, cracked too fast and too hard for anyone to notice until it was already too late.

"_Stop saying that! Stop saying that you bastards!_" Romano screamed, clutching onto his little brother as he broke down and began choking on violent sobs.

He felt his feet give out beneath him and he sank to the floor in agony, taking the surprised Italy down with him. Romano pulled away from his brother, holding his face in his hands as he continued to cry. Tears streamed from those agonized hazel eyes through his fingertips, leaving small droplets to fall onto his lap.

"Fratello!" the alarmed voice of Italy rang in his ears, and he only sobbed harder.

"Everyone… Everyone always wanted me to be like _you…_" he said shakily, in between the hiccups that had just ensued. "No one ever cared if I was part of Italy, I was just," he sniffled, "j- just the annoying brother who everyone hated. I'm pretty sure no one in here sees me as a fucking nation!"

He felt arms encircle him and pull him into a tight hug. A comforting hand then started stroking his hair. "Ve, fratello that's not true!" he protested.

No one said anything to defend the notion. Not that Romano was really expecting anyone to do so in the first place. He scoffed.

"What bastard in here would ever consider me a nation?" he asked, wiping his tears with his sleeve, he looked up at Italy and was surprised to see the most serious expression he'd ever seen written across Italy's kind and usually innocently naïve face.

"I do. You're my big brother and the coolest nation I know! You do a lot better than me with fighting and you make really good pizza! You've always been more dedicated to work than I have- I don't even look at stuff Boss sends us! You're the best big brother and nation, fratello!"

_**He holds me in such high respect…**_

Romano shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I- I'm not all that great, Veneziano." He mumbled quietly, looking down at his lap.

"Ve, of course you are, fratello!" Italy chirped, "You know so much more than I do, and I'll never be anywhere near as strong as you are!"

_**Praising me… in a way Spain never has…**_

"_Useless!"_

"_Ungrateful brat!"_

"_Stupid child!"_

"_A nuisance!"_

_**That's all they ever called me… **_

Romano whimpered slightly, staring down at his lap as he retreated back into himself. It was more of a habit than anything, a terrible one that he had yet to overcome in a mere matter of minutes. Though, he would have probably been grateful if it had.

_**Maybe… all those things they say about me are true…**_

"Fratello…" came the soft, saddened reply.

… _**I'm just a waste of space…**_

"Fratello are you listening?"

_**That's all I've ever been. All I'll ever be.**_

"Fratello!" the Italian shook him, but Romano showed no sign of noticing, or caring for that matter.

_**Worthless, good for nothing nation I turned out to be…**_

"… Italy?"

…_**What…?**_

Romano glanced up from his lap at his little brother, a stunned look on his face. Italy was staring back at him; he looked like he'd started crying again. "W- what did you say?"

Italy was sniffling as he looked at him. "I s-said I-Italy… A-re you ok, Italy?"

Shocked, that was an understatement for how Romano was feeling at that precise point in time. His brother, Veneziano, the one everyone was always bullying or making fun of, the one who was incapable of defending himself when his life depended on it, was actually calling him by their first name. To say, in the least, it left Romano with a sense of mixed emotions.

"Yeah… I'm fine Veneziano…" he said back quietly.

He watched the relieved grin spread across his little brother's face. "Ve, I'm glad..."

_**Always going out of his way to make me happy…**_

"V- Veneziano..?" Romano mumbled.

"Si, Italy?"

"Why do you always try so hard dammit? E- even when I treat you like shit and stuff… You always support me and take my side… I don't fucking understand…"

Italy looked at him for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he stared at Romano. A small pout set across his lips as he reached his hand up, pressing his palm against the elder Italian's cheek. "That's a silly question. It's because I love you, Italy!"

_**Out of his way… just for me…**_

Romano couldn't help but find himself flustered at the comment. "D- don't say things like that damn it!" he scowled, covering his reddening face.

… _**Thinking back… I guess this is ok…**_

Italy smiled and giggled at his brother's action. "Ve! Fratello is happy again!" he cheered, leaning over and hugging him once more.

… _**It's what I'm used to… Hell I think everyone is used to it…**_

He wanted to push the excited Italian off of him, but something told him not to. So, instead, he wrapped his arm around the other and gave him an awkward hug in return. His cheeks flushed deeper, he could feel it rather than see it.

_**It'll be alright then…**_

"Yay! Fratello gave me a hug back!" Italy squealed in joy, tightening his hug on the other.

Romano couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't expect this kind of thing from me more often now." He smirked, "Idiota."

"That's mean!"

"I never said I was nice dammit!"

As they continued to bicker, Romano couldn't help but feel his heart swell up from happiness at the fact that his brother was so willing to stay by his side. It didn't matter what he'd done in the past, how harsh and cruel he could still act on occasion. No matter what he did, or what mean and inexplicably hurtful things anyone else would say about him, he still had Italy by his side to support him till the very end.

_**I don't really mind… coming in second place anymore…**_

"Hey idiota, you still have to make dinner when we get home."


End file.
